


NAMAHAL SOV DAZI NAMIDAL

by TaterChipGirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Eventual Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Eventual human!Castiel, Human Castiel, Human Ezekiel | Gadreel, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sadreel - Freeform, Samdreel, human!Gadreel, taterchipgirl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3540695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaterChipGirl/pseuds/TaterChipGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gadreel returns as a human, and nobody knows how or why - not even Gadreel - until he finds himself in the presence of a certain hunter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. DAZI NASANENA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters return to the bunker after a long hunt, and find an unexpected guest waiting for them - a guest who should be dead.

Dean is the first through the bunker door, boots pounding down the curving metal staircase as he carries in plastic bags full of groceries. When he reaches the library floor, he stops and stares, mouth agape and brows knit with surprise and confusion.

The two men at the table stand up slowly, exchanging a wary glance.

"Dean - " Cas begins cautiously.

"What the - " Dean looks from Cas to the other man. "Gadreel?"

Gadreel steps back uncertainly, his eyes widening in fear. Cas places a steadying hand on his arm.

Dean sets down the groceries and curls his fingers around the grip of his gun.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” he says. “How are you back?”

Instead of answering, Gadreel goes suddenly still, his eyes fixed on the stairs as Sam’s long, denim-clad legs come into view.

"Dean, why are the bags on the floor?" Sam’s annoyed tone carries into the library below. "We need to get those dairy products in the fridge so they don’t go… bad… "

Sam’s voice trails off, his steps slowing as he notices their guest. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, holding the rest of the groceries, his eyes locked with Gadreel’s.

For a long moment, no one speaks.

Cas nervously scans the faces of all three men, bracing himself for the inevitable Winchester outburst.

Following Gadreel’s intense gaze, Dean turns back towards the stairs. Sam is wearing what Dean has come to recognize as his “Holy shit, how did I not see this before?” expression. This is the face Dean sees when Sam researches a difficult case and finds something they can really use, something big enough to send them back out on the road knowing what they’re up against.

Dean’s eyes move back and forth between his brother and the newly-returned angel - Gadreel is wearing the same expression. Something's going on there, and he’s not sure if he approves. His hold on the gun tightens.

Gadreel is the first to break the tense silence.

“Sam, it’s good to see you again.”

Dean’s eyes cut back to his brother. Sam's mouth hangs open for a minute before he speaks.

"Hi," he replies breathlessly, and stands there for a few seconds until he remembers the bags he’s holding. "Uh... gotta... put these away... be right back..." he finishes weakly, and disappears into the kitchen.

Gadreel moves to follow him, but Cas grips his sleeve and pulls him back.

“Let him go, brother. Now is not the time.”

After another stern look in Gadreel’s direction, then at Cas, Dean follows Sam, and finds him emptying bags and setting things haphazardly on the counter. His eyes are distant, distracted, and he's wearing a perplexed frown.

"Uh... you wanna tell me what just happened in there?"

"What?" Sam continues unloading groceries without looking up.

Dean grabs his arm.

“Sam! Seriously?”

"What?"

Sam still seems a bit disoriented.

"Dude," Dean shakes his head in disbelief. "Do I have to fuckin’ spell it out for you?"

“WHAT, Dean?”

"Stop SAYING that!" Dean hisses, roughly releasing Sam’s arm. "Come on, man! The dickwad angel who lied to us, tricked us into letting him possess you - _who killed Kevin_ \- is magically back from the dead, and all you can say is ‘Hi’? REALLY??? And then start putting away groceries like nothing’s happened?" Dean rolls his eyes and flings his hands in the air. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

Sam pauses with a jar of organic pasta sauce in his hand and stares down at the countertop as if deep in thought.

"I, uh - " he shakes his head and shrugs helplessly. "I just... I dunno, Dean. I don't know what to tell you. I don't really understand it myself." He sets the jar down and leans on the counter with both hands. "I kinda thought I'd be pissed too if I ever saw him again, but I'm actually glad to see him. I guess... I'm just surprised by everything, is all. It's kind of a shock, ya know?"

"Oh, ya think?" Dean says mockingly. "Sam, he shouldn't even be alive," he reminds him, leaning in from the other side of the counter. "He blew himself into atoms with that power sigil, remember?"

"Yeah, Dean, I remember." Sam nods solemnly. "Cas told me all about it. He did it to free Cas from Metatron's prison. To redeem himself."

"You're defending him now? After all the shit he did?" Dean points emphatically in the direction of the library. "Besides - that guy in there? He could be anybody! We don't know who's really IN that meat suit."

Sam stands up straight.

"It's him," he says with conviction. "It’s Gadreel, Dean."

"Okay. Okay." Dean nods vigorously a few times and pushes off from the counter. He paces the kitchen in agitated circles, hands on his hips. "And you know this how?"

"I just know."

Dean whirls around to face Sam.

"You just - how can you say that? How can you even tell?"

Sam sighs and closes his eyes.

“Dean, trust me, I just KNOW, okay?”

Dean jabs a finger at his brother. “No, Sammy. NOT OKAY.” He screws up his face, mocking Sam’s words. “You just know?”

"Yeah," his brother replies, now looking steadily at Dean. "I KNOW it’s him."

The staredown goes on for a moment before Dean throws his hands in the air again, conceding the argument.

“Okay, then.” He heads back to the library, stops and turns before opening the kitchen door. “But if he tries anything - ” He pats the gun in his belt.

Sam sighs in exasperation.

“Okay, yeah, I get it - you’ll blow his head off. But just chill, alright? Give the guy a chance before you start putting bullets in him.”

"Yeah. Sure," Dean responds flippantly.

Sam glowers back, a warning in his eyes.

"I mean it, Dean. At least hear his side of the story."

Dean raises his hands in surrender.

"Okay, ya know what, Sam? I have no freakin' idea what's goin' on here, but whatever you say. It’s your circus."

And he’s gone.

The gun is already out and cocked when he reaches the library. He aims it at Gadreel’s face.

"Dean! What are you doing?"

Cas moves in front of Gadreel, shielding him.

"Get out of the way, Cas," Dean growls, low and threatening. "Whoever this is better start talking, or he’s losing his head. Right. Fucking. NOW."

Cas doesn’t move.

“Dean, it’s Gadreel." He raises his hands in a protective gesture. "He’s my brother, I know him. But - “

"But WHAT?"

They form a silent tableau, the three of them, for what seems like an eternity.

"He’s human, Dean," Cas finishes carefully. "He’s lost his grace. He has no powers."

Dean is breathing hard, his finger resting on the trigger. The naked fear in Gadreel's eyes tells him Cas is correct. Reluctantly, he uncocks the gun and lowers it.

"So how is he even alive? And what the hell is he doing HERE?"

"Dean!" Sam's voice booms out of the kitchen. "Leave him alone! Bring me the rest of the groceries!"

Dean starts to speak, then clamps his mouth shut and looks at the floor, his jaw working with anger. He takes a few breaths to calm himself before putting his gun away and leaning over to gather the remaining bags. With a final withering look at Gadreel, he stomps back to the kitchen, silently fuming, and thumps the bags down on the counter in front of Sam, knocking a few items aside in the process.

"Hey, be careful," Sam admonishes, righting a tipped-over bottle of salad dressing. "There are glass containers in there."

"You're - " Dean grits his teeth, makes a fist and touches it to the countertop as if he'd rather be punching it instead. He takes a deep breath and laughs harshly. "You're seriously getting on my ass about glass jars right now?"

"Well, yeah." Sam begins ferreting through the bags, gathering the items that require refrigeration. "I'm making cappellini for dinner, and if those jars break, I won't have enough marinara for four people."

"Uh-huh. Right." Dean runs a hand roughly over his face and throws his head back to look at the ceiling. "Gee, silly me," he says sarcastically. "Why didn't I think of that?" He turns abruptly to leave, shaking his head in disbelief. "So now we're inviting him to dinner. This is my fuckin' life, man. Why am I even surprised?"

Sam pointedly ignores Dean's posturing.

"Tell Gadreel to come in here, willya?"

Dean pauses at the half-opened kitchen door, his eyes blazing.

"If he pulls anything, I'll kick his fuckin' ass, Sammy," he says without turning around. "I don't trust him."

"He's not gonna do anything, Dean," Sam says with a tone of finality. "I wanna talk to him alone."

Dean opens his mouth to respond, then snaps it shut again. He shoves the door the rest of the way open and leaves without another word. Seconds later, a hesitant Gadreel enters, eyes big with fright and darting back towards the library, and a furious Dean Winchester.

"Your brother wants to kill me," he states matter-of-factly.

"No shit," Sam responds as he arranges the contents of the fridge.

"No, there is no shit, Sam." Gadreel moves to stand at the counter, watching Sam work. "He has a gun."

Sam laughs at this despite himself as he closes the fridge and turns to face his visitor.

"Yeah, I know, it's... just an expression," he explains. "It's the same as saying, 'That's really obvious', or something like that."

"I see." Gadreel nods in understanding. "I'm human now, Sam," he continues, getting right to the point. "I'm no threat to any of you. I need you to believe this."

Sam's eyebrows shoot up.

"Human? Really? Like, fully human?"

"Yes. My grace was not included when I was... reassembled."

"Wow... " Sam slowly rounds the end of the counter and stands next to Gadreel. "You uh... you okay with that?" His eyes are filled with genuine concern - something Gadreel did not expect.

"I... don't know yet," Gadreel says thoughtfully. "Although I have used this vessel many times previously, I have little knowledge of its daily requirements from a human perspective." He raises his hands and examines them. "I know that it must be nourished and cleansed on a regular basis. However, for reasons I don't understand, I no longer have access to the memories of this vessel's original human occupant, so I cannot make use of them in this regard." His hands fall to his sides. "There is much I don't understand."

Sam moves closer.

"Don't worry about any of that, okay? I'll help you with that stuff as much as I can. Cas was human once, too, so he can fill you in when I'm not around." He places a reassuring hand on Gadreel's shoulder.

Gadreel flinches and shrinks away from the contact, leaving Sam's hand hovering in mid-air.

"Hey, whoa... " Sam pulls his hand back, but doesn't move away from Gadreel. "Relax. You don't have to be afraid of me. Ever. Understand?" He holds Gadreel's gaze until the man nods his acknowledgement, then lets his hand come down to gently rest on his shoulder again. He gives it a light squeeze. "See? You're safe here. No one's gonna hurt you."

"No one except Dean," Gadreel says flatly.

Sam shakes his head.

"No way, Dean's not laying a hand on you." He squeezes Gadreel's shoulder harder this time. "I won't let him. Another nod from Gadreel, and Sam lets go. "So, how long have you been human?"

"No more than a few hours, I believe," Gadreel says after thinking about it. "Castiel found me not long after I awoke in this form."

"Huh." Sam laughs a little. "So, a real newbie."

Gadreel's face is expressionless.

"I don't know what that means."

"Oh. Yeah, of course. Sorry about that." Sam leans back against the edge of the counter and crosses his arms. "It just means you have no experience."

"Then yes, that's correct. I am a 'noo-bee'," Gadreel says gravely.

Sam looks down and bites his lip to keep from laughing.

"Are you injured?" he asks when he's able to look up again with a straight face. "Are you in pain?"

Gadreel goes very still, as if listening for a distant sound.

"No," he finally answers. "I feel no pain, but my mouth is very dry. Talking is becoming more difficult."

At this, Sam perks up. "You need water." He fetches a glass, fills it at the sink, and brings it back to Gadreel. "Here ya go."

The former angel accepts it and puts it carefully to his lips in imitation of other humans he's seen doing this. His thirst takes over, and he quickly drains the glass, staring down at it in amazement when he's finished.

"That was very enjoyable." He holds the glass out to Sam. "May I have more?"

"Absolutely. As much as you want." Sam grins and signals Gadreel to follow him back to the sink. "I guess this'll be your first lesson in being human. I'll show you how to use the faucet so you can get water by yourself whenever you want."

 


	2. JASOVOHIL NOLILA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas deflects Dean's violent impulses and reveals to Sam the details of Gadreel's return.

Back in the library, Dean paces angrily around the table, clenching and unclenching his fists. He's still wired from the hunt, and his already tightly-strung nerves are frayed from lack of sleep.

Cas's concerned eyes follow him, waiting for the questions he knows are coming - some of which he must answer with lies, if Gadreel is to survive. The thought of lying to his friends greatly distresses him. His most fervent hope is that he won’t be pressed for too many details.

Dean snatches up a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels from the table, pours a generous drink, and downs it in two gulps, grimacing as the alcohol burns its way down his throat. He pours another and lowers himself with an exhausted sigh into a chair, staring at the glass in front of him as he turns it around and around.

Cas quietly takes a seat across from him.

"What’s he doin’ here, Cas?" Dean's voice is flat and tense. "What does he want from us?"

Cas swallows hard, but keeps his face and voice impassive.

"Help and guidance, nothing more."

His hands are tightly clasped in his lap, where Dean can't see their nervous motion. A very human reaction to stress, Cas thinks – but then, he is closer to human than angel these days.

Dean snorts derisively and rolls his eyes as he takes another gulp of whiskey.

Cas shifts uneasily in his chair and flicks his eyes up to Dean's face.

"He's never been fully human before. He doesn't know how to maintain his vessel without grace. There’s no one else he can trust to help him." Despite Dean’s state of mind, this is going far better than Cas anticipated – evasion and misdirection are always preferable to outright falsehood.

Dean sighs dramatically.

"Great. Just what we need right now - another mouth to feed." He knocks back the rest of his drink, then thumps the heavy-bottomed glass back down onto the thick wooden surface. "Look, we don't have time to babysit clueless fallen angels, okay?" He jerks his thumb in the direction of the kitchen. "Especially this asshole. We have enough crap on our plate as it is."

He's sagging into the chair now, as the alcohol begins to affect him, and rubs his unshaven face roughly with both hands.

"Man, I need some sleep. Tell Sam not to bother wakin' me up for dinner. I'll grab somethin' later."

Heaving himself to his feet with some effort, Dean grabs the whiskey bottle and shuffles unsteadily towards the hallway.

"You keep an eye on that son of a bitch, you hear me?" He points back at Cas with the hand holding the bottle. The sound of sloshing liquid accompanies his every step. "Don't let him outta your sight. I’ll deal with him later."

Cas nods. "Of course."

He waits tensely for the sound of Dean's bedroom door closing before he gets up from the table and makes his way to the kitchen, glancing furtively behind him as he goes. He finds Gadreel at the counter, watching with great interest as Sam makes a sandwich. Their heads snap up when Cas opens the door, and he can tell by their relieved expressions that they're glad he isn't Dean.

"Hey, Cas." Sam slices the completed sandwich diagonally down the middle and hands one half to Gadreel. "Lemme guess - booze, then bed."

"Yes." Cas walks over to join them. "He asked me to keep a close watch on Gadreel."

Sam sighs and shakes his head, his mouth forming a tight line.

"Doesn't surprise me."

"It’s urgent that I speak with you while Dean is otherwise occupied,” Cas continues. “There are things you should know about Gadreel's reappearance.”

"Okay.” Sam braces himself for the worst. “Let's hear it."

The suddenly serious atmosphere is momentarily broken by Gadreel's failure to correctly hold his sandwich. The bread slices are now askew, and ingredients are slipping out and dangling precariously.

"Wait, wait - " Sam laughs. "Like this." He demonstrates using the other half of the sandwich. "See? This way, it stays together."

Gadreel carefully rearranges his half, clumsily poking everything back into place, and looks back up at Sam for confirmation.

"Good. Now take a bite - not too much!"

The former angel does as instructed, and begins chewing carefully. His eyes fill with surprised delight as his tongue detects the various flavors.

"You must be sure to chew thoroughly before swallowing, brother," Cas adds helpfully. "Large pieces of food can cause choking. It’s quite unpleasant."

Gadreel flashes him a look of acknowledgement and continues eating.

Satisfied with Gadreel's progress, Sam turns back to Cas, his expression sober again.

"So, what do you need to tell me?"

"Before I begin, I must ask you not to discuss any of this with Dean. It will only enrage him further, and with the Mark - "

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Sam nods his agreement. "No problem."

"Good." Cas takes a deep breath and begins. “During the time Gadreel possessed and healed you, his grace and consciousness mingled with your soul on what human scientists refer to as a sub-atomic level, but far deeper than their instruments are capable of measuring. This resulted in irrevocable changes to both of you."

"Oh. Ooh… " Sam is wearing his _Holy shit!_ expression again. "Did that happen with you and Dean too? When you put him back together?"

"Uh... yes.”

Cas blushes and shifts uneasily at this unexpected question. He should have anticipated this.

“Although, due to the state of his consciousness at the time, and the individual harmonics involved, the process was not identical to yours, and the um… connection… manifested in a somewhat… uh... different manner."

"Right. Makes sense... I guess..." Sam says thoughtfully.

"When you first saw Gadreel after his return," Cas pushes on, "you detected the resonance, did you not?"

Sam frowns.

"What do you mean, exactly?"

"When you looked into his eyes and recognized him, I saw the movement of energy between you. You may have even felt it physically."

Sam instinctively places a hand over his own solar plexus.

"Yes," Cas confirms, noting the gesture. "Gadreel felt it also. The truth is, this resonance has existed far longer than you know."

"How long?"

Cas shoots a look at Gadreel, who is still chewing studiously as he listens to their conversation.

"From an angelic perspective, it is instantaneous and eternal, because it exists outside what humans perceive as linear time."

Cas heaves a frustrated sigh.

"However… it is still an intricate process. I'll try to explain it as concisely as possible."

"Right. Sure, take your time,” Sam nods. “I'm listening."

For a few seconds, Cas wears a look of intense concentration.

"Every being," he finally resumes, "begins as a pulse of differentiated potential that is unique, yet lacking in what humans know as individual personality. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I get it." Sam prompts him to continue.

Cas is grateful, especially now, for Sam's intelligence and ability to quickly grasp abstract concepts. It will make this much easier.

"As I've mentioned before, angels exist primarily as interdimensional wavelengths of celestial intent. We are therefore instantly aware of any existing potentials whose frequencies interact with ours in a way that creates a distinct type of harmonic resonance. We are drawn to those most energetically attuned to us."

"So," Sam cuts in, "That's what happened with me and Gadreel? Like, before I was even… me?"

"Correct. When Gadreel destroyed himself, his frequencies were… “ Cas struggles for the right word. “They were scrambled, as a human technician might phrase it. The manner of his death also resulted in catastrophic particulate dispersal on every density level.”

“You mean the power sigil he used blew him into sub-sub-atomic particles.”

“Again, correct. His consciousness, although intact, was no longer individualized in the way that humans understand, because it lacked a material focal point. Under normal circumstances, fragmentation as extensive as Gadreel’s would have prevented him from ever taking form again. At least,“ Cas amended, “In his present configuration. However, the intensity of the resonance between you caused your soul’s native frequencies to, in effect, subconsciously call him back into a more focused state of being. When this occurred, he remembered himself, and his intense desire to re-individualize brought about the reassembly of his vessel’s dispersed particles. From a human perspective, this process should have required more time. But – “ Cas looks at Gadreel again. “In your case, it happened relatively quickly.”

"Okay, wait... " Sam raises a hand to silence Cas. "Let me see if I understand this correctly. You’re saying… that my _soul_ brought Gadreel back?"

"Essentially, yes. Well - " Cas purses his lips, thinking. “Occupying a physical form requires a being’s energies to compact, become more focused and concentrated, and therefore more powerful. So, to be more specific, your soul’s intrinsic vibration, amplified by its concentrated state in a physical form, initiated the process, which was allowed to continue to its completion.”

“Allowed? By whom?”

“By God, of course.” Cas’s tone indicates that this should be obvious. “Otherwise, it would have been impossible.”

“But why? I mean, why us, specifically? I’m guessing this kind of thing doesn’t happen often.”

“This has never happened before,” Cas says quietly. “I am able to perceive and explain the process itself, but the reasons for it are… hidden from me. I don’t know why it was allowed in your case. God has His reasons, I suppose.”

“Yeah… ‘mysterious ways’, and all that… “ Sam muses. “What about Gadreel’s grace?”

He looks over at the former angel, who is swallowing the last bite of his sandwich.

“You still had yours when you were resurrected, so why is he human now?”

“Technically speaking, Gadreel did not experience resurrection. I was resurrected by God,” Cas reminds him. “Gadreel’s reassembly was an act of personal will. It was powerful enough to recall his consciousness into a physical form, but not to reclaim his grace.”

“And the guy the body belonged to before - is he uh… still in there?”

“He is no longer present. Gadreel is now its sole occupant.”

Sam distractedly hands Gadreel the remaining half of the sandwich. This time, it doesn’t fall apart when he eagerly accepts it.

“But he doesn’t have any of the guy’s memories, and I know you still have all of Jimmy Novak’s. So what happened there?”

Cas shrugs.

“I don’t know. I assume it was due to the nature of the reassembly process, but I can’t be sure, as there is no precedent with which to compare it.”

“Huh. Weird.”

Overwhelmed by the enormity of what he’s just been told, Sam can’t think of anything else to say, so he busies himself with clearing off the counter and putting away the sandwich ingredients. He understands why Cas asked him not to mention this to Dean. Sam can easily imagine his brother cornering the newly-human angel in a remote corner of the bunker and working him over – or worse.

His stomach rolls violently at the thought of Gadreel being harmed. It’s obvious now that he’ll need constant protection, and Sam himself will have to provide it. There’s only so much Cas can do, and the angel’s quickly-fading stolen grace is already being pushed to the limit.

After dropping the dirty utensils into the sink, Sam turns around to find Cas and Gadreel standing close together, speaking in low voices. Gadreel has stopped eating and is listening with great gravity to whatever Cas is saying.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m instructing Gadreel on the proper usage of a toilet,” says Cas. “He will soon need to urinate and defecate.”

That brings Sam up short – he should have thought of this stuff already.

“Oh. Right. Uh… good idea, Cas.”

Okay, there’s another thing to be dealt with - Gadreel knows nothing about personal hygiene. He’ll have to be taught to bathe, dress, brush his teeth, shave, trim his nails… all the little subconscious rituals that are second nature to humans. It’s like having a super-intelligent, adult-sized child in the bunker. Sam’s mind goes into full caretaker mode now, making lists of issues to be addressed, items to be purchased.

Gadreel will need his own clothing, his own toiletry items. He knows nothing about which foods to eat, or what he likes or dislikes – Sam and Cas will have to team up on that one, to help provide a wide enough variety of food items. He’ll need a safe place to sleep, where Dean can’t sneak up on him when he’s most vulnerable. Sam feels sick, having to think that way about his own brother – but he has to face facts. There’s no way to predict what Dean will do, how far the Mark will push him.

If Gadreel is to be kept safe, there’s only one solution.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some thoughts I had as I wrote this chapter:
> 
> (1) If Gadreel is the angel most energetically compatible with Sam's soul, how can Sam be Lucifer's true vessel?
> 
> (2) Knowing Metatron, he would hide Cas's grace in plain sight. After all, the angel tablet was concealed under Metatron's typewriter, where anyone could have easily found it - but no one ever thought to look there.
> 
> Both of these questions will be answered in later chapters. I'm so excited, I can hardly wait!


	3. JANAM NINATOS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets a new roomie. Gadreel is tense. Cas babysits. Dean passes out.

After peering down the hallway in both directions to make sure Dean isn’t watching, Sam steps quietly back into his room.

“Well, this is it,” he says as he locks the door behind himself and Gadreel. “It’s kinda small, and it’s nothing fancy, but it’ll do the job for now, so… looks like we’re officially roomies.”

Standing stiffly at attention with clenched hands, Gadreel warily takes in the neatly organized desk, shelves loaded with books and boxes, duffel bags lined up on the floor by the wall. Sam’s room looks comfortable, and is much larger than Gadreel’s prison cell in Heaven, but it’s still four solid walls closed in around him.

At least in his cell, he’d been able to see something outside of it, if only the opposite side of a hallway through a set of bars. Being closed up underground (especially with a homicidal Dean nearby) is putting him severely on edge. Regardless, he is grateful for Sam’s generosity, and sees no other option but to make the best of his current situation.

“Where will I sleep?”

Sam frowns.

“On the bed, of course. What, did you think I was gonna make you sleep on the floor?”

“Then where will you sleep, Sam?”

“Uh… with you.” Sam says this as though it should be obvious. “I’ll take the side closest to the door, so I can keep an eye on things.”

 _And defend you, if I have to,_ he adds silently.

Gadreel casts an incredulous glance at the bed.

“Are you certain you want to do this? The bed appears far too small to comfortably accommodate both of our vessels.”

Sam sits down on the end of the mattress, smiling widely at Gadreel’s comment.

“It’s really not that big of a deal. Dean and I shared all the time, growing up. Sometimes we still have to, if we get stuck in a room with only one bed and no couch.” He shrugs. “I mean, it can be a little crowded, but I’m used to it by now.”

Gadreel knows this man’s soul from the inside out, yet still finds the magnitude of his heart consistently astounding. He sits down cautiously beside Sam, suddenly suffused by unaccustomed human emotion.

“You’ve shown me great kindness,” Gadreel says after a moment. “Far more than I deserve. I’m very grateful.”

“Hey… don’t say that.” Sam plants his enormous hand on Gadreel’s shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve been human for, what – only a few hours, you said? That’s gotta be intense. I think kindness is _exactly_ what you deserve.”

Gadreel bows his head in shame and heaves a deep sigh.

“Abner was my dear friend and brother. While it is true that I was being misled at the time, the choice to kill him was mine alone. I made you an assassin without your consent,” he says bitterly, from behind gritted teeth. “Furthermore, I used you to kill someone for whom you cared deeply, someone you would never have chosen to kill.” He takes another deep breath. “Such violation of human free will is a grave offense. I deserve punishment, not kindness.”

Sam stares down wordlessly at his own hands, which are now tightly clenched in his lap. He flexes them open and spreads them palms-down on his thighs.

“Look…“ he begins, his voice rough with remembered pain. “That was… that was pretty bad, I won’t lie. It hurt. A lot. And yeah… I was really angry about it for a long time.”

“Your anger is justified. There was no reason for either of them to die. My actions were - ” Gadreel shudders. “They were horrendous. Unforgivable.”

Sam clears his throat and takes a few breaths before he speaks again, to keep the tears from coming.

“There’s no one under this roof right now,” he says carefully, “angel or human, who hasn’t done horrendous things.” He wraps a comforting arm around Gadreel’s shoulders. “We’ve all fucked up, in major ways. Not one of us can claim to be any better than the other. What happened…” Sam clears his throat again and continues. “What happened… it’s over now. Kevin’s with his mom, and he’s doing fine. There’s no point in holding grudges.”

They sit in silence for a moment, Gadreel leaning into Sam’s shoulder, enjoying the soothing weight of his arm. He didn’t expect to be this deeply affected by physical contact. His craving for it increases with every touch. More than that, he wants to crawl abjectly back into Sam’s vessel, nestle into the comforting warmth of his soul – even knowing he is completely unworthy of this privilege.

“You know,” Sam continues softly, “I haven’t forgotten how you sacrificed yourself to bust Cas out of Metatron’s prison.”

“And I have not forgotten,” Gadreel counters, “how you stood between me and Dean the first time he tried to kill me.”

Sam blanches at the vivid memory of Dean’s swift ferocity, the sight of angelic grace seeping out as the First Blade slashed through Gadreel’s abdomen.

“Yeah... I just… I wish I'd been faster. And you were right then, too. About how we’d all made mistakes, thinking we were doing the right thing… ” He tightens his grip around Gadreel’s shoulders. “Look, if it’s forgiveness you need, you have it. From me, at least. Okay?”

Gadreel closes his eyes and nods jerkily, not noticing the single tear that spills over and runs down his face.

“Thank you, Sam.”

“On the other hand… “ Sam’s voice is a bit steadier now, “if it’s justice you’re after, my snoring should be punishment enough.”

At these words, Gadreel raises his head, sits up straight and squares his shoulders. Punishment is something he understands. Still operating from an angelic mindset – which is all he knows - he welcomes the opportunity to pay for his crimes, to balance the ledger and erase his offenses.

“I accept your judgement, Sam,” he says resolutely, lifting his chin and staring straight ahead. “You may bring your ‘sno-ring’ and begin my punishment. I am ready.”

The former angel is dumbfounded when, instead of fetching a weapon or implement of torture, Sam begins making strangled weeping noises, and falls backwards onto the bed with his hands covering his face. Gadreel leaps to his feet and stares fearfully down at Sam. Having never personally witnessed this behavior in humans, he has no idea what has caused it, or what to do about it.

“Sam! What’s happening?”

The man on the bed tries, and fails, to raise himself into a sitting position. His face is wet with tears, and he appears to have some difficulty breathing.

Gadreel rushes to the door, and after wrestling with the locking mechanism, opens it, and finds his way to the library. To his great relief, Castiel is still there.

“Brother, I need your help,” Gadreel says breathlessly. “Something is wrong with Sam.”

Signaling for silence, Cas stands up quickly and follows Gadreel back down the hallway.

“What happened?” he mutters close to Gadreel’s ear, making sure that Dean won’t overhear him.

“I don’t know,” Gadreel whispers back. “He is unable to speak. He appears to be in great distress.”

Cas frowns and walks faster.

They find Sam lying on his side, holding his stomach and gasping helplessly. Gadreel closes the door behind them. Cas studies Sam intently for a few seconds before speaking. The corner of his mouth gives an odd little twitch.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he says to Gadreel.

“Sam and I were talking, and he was preparing to punish me. Then he collapsed on the bed. His breathing became labored, and he is unable to speak.”

Cas squints at Gadreel and tilts his head to the side.

“Punish you? In what way?”

“With his ‘sno-ring’.” Gadreel shakes his head, perplexed. “I don’t know what manner of weapon that is, but he collapsed before he was able to retrieve it.”

At this, Sam howls into the mattress and pounds it weakly with his open hand. Gadreel’s eyes widen in alarm.

“Ah.” Cas nods in understanding. “I see now. Gadreel… “ He turns to face his newly-human brother. “There’s nothing wrong with Sam. He’s laughing.”

I don’t… ” Gadreel’s face works through several comically confused expressions, which makes Sam convulse even more. “I… don’t… understand.”

“This is a simple matter of miscommunication,” Cas explains. “’Snoring’ is not a weapon, or a punishment. It’s a term used to describe the vibration of respiratory structures due to obstructed air movement during breathing while sleeping. It also refers to the sound produced by this phenomenon, which can often be very loud. It’s quite common among humans, and even animals.”

“But… Sam said that his ‘sno-ring’ was a punishment.”

Cas sighs.

“Sam was making a joke, brother. I believe his laughter was triggered by your mistaken assumption due to misunderstanding of the term.” His mouth gives that odd twitch again. “Apparently, he finds the situation… extremely humorous.”

“So… “ Gadreel ventures, “Sam does not… wish to punish me?”

“No, he doesn’t.”

Gadreel keeps his eyes on Sam, who seems to be calming down now.

“Will he be all right? Does he need help?”

“He will continue laughing until he’s able to stop.” Cas puts his hand on the doorknob. “It could go on for some time, but he’s in no danger.”

“Wait.” Gadreel grabs Cas’s arm. “Is there anything I should do?”

Cas shrugs and opens the door. “Stay with him. Enjoy his laughter,” he says. “You may even be able to share the sensation and emotion through your mutual connection. Lock the door after I leave.” With another quick glance in Sam’s direction, Cas is gone, the door clicking softly behind him.

Gadreel locks it as instructed, and then joins Sam on the bed, sitting down carefully near his head. He leans over to peer closely at Sam’s face, which is still half-buried in the covers.

“Sam? Are you all right?”

Sam giggles helplessly in response and slaps Gadreel’s knee a few times, making him jump.

“Holy fuck… oh man… “ Sam finally gasps out, his voice partially muffled by the bedspread. “I can’t remember… the last time I laughed that hard. Holy shit… “

His anxious tension eased by Castiel’s assurances, Gadreel relaxes just enough to notice a new sensation welling up deep inside him, just below his ribcage. It’s light and joyful, and reminds him of the giddy sensation of flight. With a start, he understands that this must be the emotional exchange Castiel told him about. Beside him, Sam rolls onto his back with a groan and rubs his stomach.

“Oh maaan… I’m gonna be feelin’ this tomorrow, for sure.”

“Castiel told me that your laughter might continue for an extended period,” Gadreel says with great seriousness. “Does laughter normally last for several days?”

“Uh, no, not really,” Sam snorts, looking up at Gadreel. “Not, um… continuously, anyway. It tenses up your muscles,” he explains, pointing to his torso, “especially if you laugh really hard, so they might hurt the next day. You know, from the… the physical exertion.”

“I see.” Gadreel nods in understanding.

When his breathing returns to normal, Sam is finally able to sit up. Gadreel watches in fascination as he grabs a roll of thin white paper from the bedside table, and uses a handful of it to soak up the wetness on his face and around his eyes. He then covers his nose with the damp material and produces a series of loud, bubbly honking noises.

“Is this a normal part of laughter?” Gadreel asks. “The production of excess fluids?”

Sam snorts and giggles, then coughs a few times before he’s able to speak again.

“Only if it’s a really good, hard belly laugh.” He pats his abdomen. “That means lots of muscles are involved,” he adds, noting Gadreel’s perplexed expression.

“Ah.”

“It’s one of the fun parts of being human. Even if it makes your stomach hurt.” Sam smiles affectionately at Gadreel. “Someday, you might even laugh this hard. That’ll be, uh...“ he snickers, “interesting.”

“Why?”

“Well… have _you_ ever seen an angel laughing like this?” Sam grins. “But seriously, it’d just be nice to see you having a good time. Especially after - you know… everything. You’ve earned it.”

“Thank you, Sam.” Gadreel manages an uncertain smile, still somewhat ignorant of the mechanics of it. For him, there is still no direct correlation between emotions and facial expressions. “I will try to learn the proper responses to humorous situations, so that I can laugh correctly.”

Sam snorts again. “It won’t work if you overthink it. Just let it happen naturally.” He gives Gadreel’s shoulder a friendly shake. “You’ll get the hang of it.” Pushing up off the bed, he goes to the small sink on the opposite wall to rinse his face with cool water. “We’ve got a while ‘til dinner,” Sam says while drying his face with a small towel. “So… what do you wanna do?”

“I don’t know.”

Gadreel is sitting tensely, flexing his hands and casting anxious glances around the room.

Sam can see that he’s feeling closed in. More than that, he can sense it, like a tingling hand yanking on his gut.

“I know - let’s take a walk.” He opens the door and signals for Gadreel to follow him. “I think we both need some fresh air right now.”

“Is it safe to do this?” Gadreel whispers, nervously glancing up and down the hallway.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Sam whispers back, tugging at Gadreel’s sleeve. “Dean’s drunk off his ass by now, and dead to the world,” he continues as they make their way towards the bunker’s entrance. ”He won’t even know we’re gone.” On the way out, Sam has a quick, quiet conversation with Cas before stealthily leading Gadreel up the winding metal stairs to the front door.

“What did you say to Castiel?” Gadreel asks once they’re outside.

“I told him to let us know if Dean wakes up.” Sam turns and strolls lazily down the dirt road leading away from the bunker, with Gadreel following. “He probably won’t, but it never hurts to take precautions.”

“I agree.”

A few steps later, Gadreel stops, closes his eyes, and takes several slow, deep breaths. He’s amazed at how the influx of fresh air both calms and invigorates him. Sam had been right to insist that they come outside. Sam stops too, and watches him with a fond smile.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes. Much better.”

“I thought this might help,” Sam says as they continue leisurely onward. “Being underground for too long can make anyone antsy.”

Sam and Dean had arrived in the early evening – now it’s close to sundown. The air resounds with the chatter of birds returning to their nests and roosting spots. A gentle breeze kicks up and swishes through the trees and tall grass. A few yards further down the road, Gadreel stops again and turns in a slow circle, inspecting the scenery.

“It’s very peaceful here.”

“Yeah, it is,” Sam agrees. “I like to go running in the early morning, when it’s still dark and quiet. Sometimes at night, too.”

Gadreel looks puzzled.

“Why?”

“Y’know…” Sam shrugs. “Get some exercise, some fresh air, stay in shape - hey…” he nudges Gadreel’s arm. “If you want, maybe you can come with me sometime, see if you like it. It’s good stress relief, and it’d be nice to have someone to talk to. Plus, it beats being cooped up in the bunker all the time.”

Gadreel considers this.

“Yes, I would like to attempt running with you,” he finally says. “Where do you go when you run?”

Sam waves a hand front of them.

“Just… up and down the road. I do about half an hour, and then turn around and come back. We don’t have to run the whole time, though. We can alternate running and walking if you get tired.”

“That’s acceptable.”

They amble on in comfortable silence until it’s almost full dark. The birds have settled, the breeze is pleasantly cool, and a half-moon dimly lights the way as they return to the bunker. Cas meets them at the door and informs them that Dean is still passed out in his room.

Not long after, Sam makes his promised dinner of Cappellini Marinara, with toasted garlic bread and steamed asparagus. Gadreel hovers attentively nearby during the process, learning the names and functions of utensils and ingredients as he hands them to Sam. Cas eats with them to help reduce the burden of vessel maintenance on his stolen grace. By way of complimenting Sam’s cooking skills, he pronounces the meal an exceptional combination of molecules.

Gadreel is hungry again, and eager to hone his skills. He quickly grows proficient at consuming food, with only occasional mild chidings from Cas when Gadreel tries to put too much into his mouth at once, or forgets to swallow before taking another bite.

Sam wears a look of pleased amusement throughout the meal. His eyes rarely leave Gadreel’s face as he notes every reaction, every facial expression. He feels the newly-human angel’s delight with the various flavors and aromas, senses the deep gratification as his vessel receives nourishment.

Dessert is tiramisu (bought premade, but fresh and delicious) accompanied by red Moscato. Gadreel enjoys the wine so much, he quickly downs almost four full glasses before Sam stops him.

After dinner, Sam clears the table and rinses dishes, and Cas is assigned to shepherd a tipsy Gadreel to the bathroom for his first attempt at urination (this takes some time, and is mostly successful).

“Sam!” Gadreel exclaims enthusiastically when they reenter the kitchen. “I took a piss! My vessel feels a great sense of relief!”

Sam’s mouth quirks in a smile, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise and amusement. Cas rolls his eyes and sighs defeatedly as he deposits Gadreel on a stool at the table.

“I was educating Gadreel on human customs regarding body waste elimination,” Cas explains. “I informed him that humans often use that term to refer to the act of urination. In his current state of intoxication, he’s… especially eager to make use of his new knowledge.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Sam shakes his head and grins as he puts the last of the leftovers in the fridge. “Would you mind helping him out in the morning, too?”

Cas frowns.

“With what?”

“Uh… you know… bathroom stuff?”

“It would be more efficient for you to help him, Sam,” Cas responds matter-of-factly. “You’ll be with him when he wakes up.”

“Uh…” Sam swallows hard. “Um… well… I just think it would be better if… _you_ handled that.”

There’s a long, uncomfortable pause as Cas considers this.

“Sam!” Gadreel breaks in cheerfully. “Castiel said that by tomorrow, all of the food I've eaten today will be fulIy digested, and I will be able to take a shit!”

“I believe I understand now, Sam,” says Cas. “You’re uncomfortable with having to view, and possibly cleanse, Gadreel’s… private areas.”

Mortified, Sam claps a hand over his reddening face.

“Oh my God, Cas!”

“There’s no reason for embarrassment, Sam. But I’ll do as you ask. You do understand,” Cas reminds him, “that this duty will fall to you if I’m unavailable.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Sam nods vigorously and flaps his hand in Cas’s direction. “Just… please take care of it for now, okay?”

“Of course.” Cas nods. “I’ll monitor the state of his digestive system, and escort him to the toilet when evacuation is imminent. After all, Dean did ask me to keep an eye on him.”

“Great.” Sam mumbles, staring at the floor. “Thanks.”

Sam walks Gadreel back into his room (their room now, he corrects himself), and strips him down to his t-shirt and underwear for sleep. The former angel is already nodding off from a combination of food coma and alcohol.

Sam arranges Gadreel’s limbs on the bed for maximum comfort, pulls the covers over him, and changes into a tank top and loose sleeping pants. He climbs in beside Gadreel and slides a loaded handgun underneath his own pillow, positioning it for the most efficient retrieval. By the time he settles in, Gadreel is already snoring.

 _Wow_ , Sam muses silently. _I can’t believe this is my life now – sleeping with a gun, next to a drunk angel, to protect him from a drunk demon. Stanford never prepared me for this shit._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, editing this thing took for-friggin-EVER. Sorry about that. It took directions I didn't even know I was headed in. Fair warning - I may tweak it a bit in the future, but nothing major.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want to put this on ao3 yet, but I made myself do it anyway, because I thought it might nag me into finishing the darn thing. It might jump around a bit, or it might be a continuous narrative. Only time will tell.
> 
> The title of this work, as well as the chapter titles, came from here: http://www.sinleb.com/enochian/proenoc.php


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